


Weathering the Storm

by propangel



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, First Time, Jack playing piano, PWP, Phrack Fucking Friday, pff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 10:39:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14235489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/propangel/pseuds/propangel
Summary: She curled her fingers in his hair, and dragged his head from her breast. “I want you, Jack. Please.” She wasn’t in the habit of begging for any man, but this wasn’t just any man. This was Jack.





	Weathering the Storm

  


It was dark when she awoke, disoriented and confused after another fitful sleep. Wondering again what had roused her. At first, she thought it was that the wind and rain had ceased, the lull leaving everything suddenly quiet. 

Then she heard it. The sound wound hauntingly through the night air until it was carried away on the next gust of wind. 

She sat up. It was definitely the notes of a piano. Maybe she hadn’t imagined it after all. Between the gusts of wind, she caught more of the melody. The notes were melancholy and off-beat in places. It was utterly bewitching. 

She switched on the bedside lamp, relieved the power was still on, and reached for her watch. When she looked at the time, she groaned. It was two in the morning. She continued to listen to the music, wondering where it was coming from. It had moved to a more comforting melody; lyrical, soft and warm, except that there were gaps. It was frustrating her. She hated that she kept missing bits as they were carried away on the wind. Then rain splattered on the window, drowning out the sound completely. 

Intrigued, she slid out of bed, drawing on her dressing gown. Maybe if she opened the door just a little she might be able to hear more over the weather. 

The door snicked open and light spilled into the shadow-filled corridor. She listened. It was coming from somewhere downstairs. Who could be down there at this hour? Especially when all the guests were specifically told to stay in their rooms and lock the doors. A murderer was on the loose.

_“Could it be?” _she wondered.__

____

____

The rain intensified, thunder rumbled overhead, and the poignant notes were lost again. She took a tentative step toward the stairs, and then another. Barefoot and silent in the darkened hallway, she made her way to the top of the stairs and peered down into the inky depths. The music was hauntingly beautiful, and so morose. Yet she felt compelled to hear more.

She looked around the empty hall, nervous and excited at the same time. Nobody would see her, and if they did surely there was no crime in just listening? Still, she took the steps gingerly, the eerie notes luring her down. It was coming from the ballroom that, from the impression she’d gained in their brief time there, seemed to take up half of the massive frontage of the mansion.

With no light to guide her, and the music leading her feet, she silently descended the stairway, hesitating on the final step as the rich emotion of the piece washed over her. It was building now, in time with the storm raging outside, a rising of passion that left her gasping at its intensity and depth. She took tentative steps toward the door leading to the ballroom, trying to remain hidden, but wanting to see inside.

She didn’t need light to know it was him. Even through the darkness, and the chasm between them, there was no mistaking the figure at the piano. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry, aching in that hollow space between her thighs. 

The notes rang out, fighting the storm outside for supremacy, frenetic as the passion burst into a climax of such intensity it brought tears to her eyes. A flash of lightning lit the room and displayed him in all his glory. The room went dark as the music crashed so suddenly that she held her breath and nearly turned and ran. She didn’t want him to know she had been watching him. 

Before her feet would move, however, the notes resumed almost from nowhere. She recognized the soft and melodic tune from earlier, only it was sweeter this time, and more poignant (if that were even possible). 

She watched him as much as the stormy night allowed as he coaxed honeyed sweetness from the keys beneath his fingers. The instrument almost seemed to bend to his will, compliant as a new lover willing to please – until he changed direction and urged it higher and wilder again. The pace was frenzied and intense as the notes meshed one final time with the storm outside, only to collapse into a dramatic conclusion.

She heard the piano lid bang closed. Then she heard breathing, loud and close, and froze. She panicked for an instant before realizing it was her own ragged breaths she was hearing. She wheeled around, ready to make her escape, trying to make sense of the shadows before her. Suddenly light flooded the room as the chandelier above turned night to day.

“I thought I told you to lock your door, Miss Fisher?” 

“I heard music, Jack. I was curious.” 

He was standing near the doorway, wearing the same three-piece suit he’d worn at dinner, looking every bit as formal and stoic as usual. 

“I hope I didn’t disturb your sleep.”

_No more than usual. _“No. Really, I was…” She stopped to compose herself, taking a deep breath. “I was just getting up for a glass of -” His brow furrowed and she forgot what she was going to say as he came closer, his eyes missing nothing as he took her in.__

____

____

“You have been crying,” he uttered, barely making eye contact.

“You play so beautifully. I had no idea… I’m sorry I disturbed you. I’ll just…” She turned to go, but he reached up to wipe away the moisture on her face with the pad of his thumb. Phryne leaned into his touch. It was so tender. So at odds with the tightness of his face. His face was set almost like a mask. It was a tightness that spoke of anger and frustration. It frightened and excited her at the same time, just as his touch set her skin afire. 

“It is late,” he said tightly, his fingers resting lightly on her cheek. “You should be in bed. We have a long day tomorrow.”

“I’ll go now,” she whispered, hoping he might stop her. She definitely wanted him to.

“I’ll see you to your room, Miss Fisher.”

“I’ll be fine.” She had to get away. She couldn’t stand the tension of having him walk alongside her, wondering all the way to her room. She couldn’t take the disappointment if he left her at the door and just walked away. “I know the way. Not to worry.”

She turned to flee back up the stairs, only for the storm to unleash its savagery again. The thunder crashed overhead and reverberated through the floor and walls. For a split second the room was still lit with the light from the chandelier, and in the next instant it was plunged into a blackness so thick it was like a wall. 

Panicked, she darted toward the stairs only to trip against the first step. She would have fallen if he hadn’t been there first to gather her into his arms. Air was knocked from her lungs, and when she was able to breathe again the air came full of his scent. Sandalwood, pomade, and something uniquely Jack. His arms were like iron bars around her, powerful and strong, as he slowly righted her until her feet touched the ground. Her knees buckled and his arms tightened around her, pulling her against his chest.

She heard his ragged breathing. She could feel the pounding of his heart in his chest. She didn’t need the light to know he was looking at her. Watching her. She knew by the intoxicating fan of his breath against her face, and the sheer intensity of his stillness. She also knew by the aching tightness of her nipples, and the moisture pooling at the apex of her thighs.

“You should not have come downstairs.” His voice was choked and thick, and a shudder ran through her. “You should have stayed in your room where it’s safe.” His words were warm and rich, and scented with his unmistakable essence. She drank him in, tasting him. 

“I had no choice,” she admitted, her hungry lips searching in the darkness. “You gave me no choice.”

He made a strangled sound as he drew her closer, her face cradled in his hands. “I’m giving you a choice now. Tell me, before I make the decision for you, what do you want?”

Her heart stuttered in her chest. His hands were hot on her face and in her hair as he waited for her answer. Her skin was alive with his touch. Her body alight with need. Right now, there was only one answer. 

She put her hands over his, lacing their fingers together. “I want you. I only want you.”

Lightning flashed. Thunder boomed. The room was suddenly so bright she saw flames in his eyes as his mouth crashed down on hers. In that moment she knew she was lost.

Mouths never parting, she was in his arms as he took the stairs two at a time with a speed she would normally consider reckless but now felt strangely necessary. She didn’t know where he was taking her in the dark. She didn’t care whose bed he laid her down upon. She only cared that they would soon be joined as one.

Her fingers fumbled with his jacket, protesting at the barrier, and without leaving her mouth he pulled it off and let it fall to the floor. He tugged her dressing gown loose while her hands clawed at his shoulders, wanting him back, wanting to feel him against her. She forgave him when she felt his palms sliding from her thighs to her breasts, drawing the silk nightgown up her lithe form. Beneath him, she shifted, helping him to pull it free and toss it aside. As she settled back among the pillows, his fingers trailed down her body.

“Beautiful,” he growled, leaning over her, rolling one hard nipple between his thumb and index finger – making her back arch into the bed. “Do you have any idea how much I want you?”

‘Please,” she implored. Her body was screaming for release as she moved her hands to his waist and then below. She gasped into his mouth as she discovered exactly how much he wanted her, her fingers marveling as they traced his rigid length.

He growled like an animal in distress and grabbed the offending wrist, pinning it to the bed while he freed himself. 

“Please, Jack!” she cried when his fingers wandered down between her thighs, tracing the line of her folds through her wet knickers while his mouth suckled one peaked breast. 

She bucked into the bed and cried out with the sheer ecstasy of it, at the unfairness of it all. He peeled her knickers off and slipped his fingers between her legs, teasing her clit. It was something else she wanted, something else she needed.

She curled her fingers in his hair, and dragged his head from her breast. “I want you, Jack. Please.” She wasn’t in the habit of begging for any man, but this wasn’t just any man. This was Jack. 

He quickly removed the rest of his clothing, and then she felt him there at her entrance, felt the heat and the pressure and wondered for just a moment if she was dreaming. Wondered if any minute she was going to wake up alone in twisted sheets, feeling cheated and unsated.

A bolt of lightning lit the skies above and she could see him there, poised above her. “You are so beautiful, Phryne,” he murmured, his voice filled with longing. 

He entered her on one long, deep thrust that stretched her, filling her completely. He fit her so perfectly that she cried out with the wonderment of it all. How had they not done this before?

He gasped at their joining, taking just a moment to savor the exquisite tightness around him. He could feel her pulse in the slick flesh surrounding him, could feel her muscles stretching to accommodate him, and he feared he would not last. 

Not wanting it to be over before it began, he pulled out at an excruciatingly slow pace before entering her again just as unhurried. He repeated the movement over and over, never changing the tempo. It was maddening, yet so delicious at the same time. On every down stroke, he slightly ground his pelvis against hers, creating a wonderful friction that sent tingles of pleasure up her spine. 

Phryne’s hands traced patterns across his shoulders and back, and she lightly scraped her fingernails up his ribcage. Each action was rewarded with a delighted moan against her skin. Her foot traveled up the back of his leg, and she marveled at the feel of his muscles flexing and releasing with each of his thrusts. 

He stilled for a moment as lightning flashed overhead again and thunder rumbled. While Jack was distracted by the storm, Phryne took the opportunity to roll them over, sitting upright as she straddled him. 

As if by silent agreement, neither of them moved for a moment, simply breathing heavily, eyes locked, as they readjusted. Jack reached up to caress her cheek, then dropped his hands back down to her breasts, his lips quirking up at the sigh of contentment she gave as his thumbs gently flicked her taut nipples. 

Phryne began to rock gently against him and he bent his legs until his feet were flat on the bed so he could push up into her slowly. His hands drifted down to her sides, and he began running his fingers over the sensitive skin above her pelvis. Then a dam broke. She fell forward, hands braced on his shoulders as she began lifting herself off him and plunging back down in a frenzy, wanting him deeper inside her. Wanting to fulfill her every desire, Jack grasped her hips firmly and drove upwards into her. 

She leaned back against his thighs and slowed her own movement to rub her inner wall against his motion, dropping her chin to her chest. She was fully concentrated on the impending pleasure. All too soon, he could see the telltale signs he'd only ever dreamed about: the way her eyes glazed over and then closed, the flush that instantly saturated her skin, the low whimpering noise in the back of her throat. He knew she was close. 

In the split second before she began to spasm around him, a moan escaped her that almost sent him over the edge all on its own.

He managed to hold on, however, watching her come apart until she collapsed back on his chest, shaking. In one quick movement, he flipped their joined bodies over and thrust into her as hail began to pound at the windows. Furiously he moved, chasing after his pleasure, desperate to bring her with him.

The sound of her calling out his name had him redoubling his efforts until he felt her fluttering sex clench around him as she shattered again. Her release was his undoing, and he emptied himself inside her, crying out his love for her as he toppled into the momentary blackout of sensory overload.

They clung to each other in the aftermath, hearts pounding together, his weight pressing her back into the mattress. Phryne held him close, until she felt his pulse begin to slow and his breath became steadier.

"I’m so glad you’re here, Jack," she breathed into his ear with a smile in her voice and felt as much as heard his answering chuckle.

He rolled to the side then, keeping her enclosed in his arms and dropping a kiss on her temple. "There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. You will stay, won’t you?"

She snuggled closer, already feeling the post-coital lassitude starting to overtake her. "I don’t think I can move." She couldn't keep in an enormous yawn. "Besides, we have a lot of lost time to make up for."

Jack hummed in response as thunder sounded in the distance. He smiled into her hair as he felt her relax against him, already beginning the slide into sleep. Kissing the top of her head, nuzzling her sweat-dampened hair, he knew whatever happened next, they would face the storm together.


End file.
